


In Your Corner

by GayDiesaster



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (so far) - Freeform, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon-typical language, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, family weekend, in which jack is the mentor that whiskey needs, mentions of coach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 10:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayDiesaster/pseuds/GayDiesaster
Summary: Jack was more than happy to be back at Samwell. Truthfully, he was happy to be at Samwell as long as Bittle was there, but this was family weekend, and with Bittle swiftly becoming family, it only made sense for Jack to attend. Besides, who would want to miss a classic Samwell Men’s Hockey game and post-game rager? There was only one damper than neither he nor Bittle could shake off, but maybe Jack was just the right person to lend a helping hand.Connor Whisk didn't know he needed to talk until he found someone in his corner.





	In Your Corner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AstriferousSprite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstriferousSprite/gifts).



> Quick shoutout to my dear Emma for being such a wonderful beta!! :D  
> Gifted to Noga for being fantastic!

Jack was more than happy to be back at Samwell. Truthfully, he was happy to be at Samwell as long as Bittle was there, but this was family weekend, and with Bittle swiftly becoming family, it only made sense for Jack to attend. Besides, who would want to miss a classic Samwell Men’s Hockey game and post-game rager?

This visit wasn’t entirely for hockey or even for romance. Ever since he’d kissed Bittle on center ice, many of his Samwell professors and non-hockey friends had reached out to him, offering support, listening ears, and about a thousand different iterations of “we got your back.” Naturally, he took the opportunity to visit Professor Atley before the game and laugh about the final project he had done with Bittle.

“I could tell that your project was made with love,” Professor Atley said, smiling. “How long?”

Jack looked up from his coffee. “How long what?”

“How long have you and Eric been together?” Professor Atley clarified.

Jack smiled and took a sip of his Annie’s before answering. “Since I graduated. As soon as I heard the bells ring on the quad, I just knew. All I had to do was pray I wasn’t too late and kiss him. The rest is history, I guess.”

Professor Atley nodded. “You know, I figured there was something there, but I didn’t think it was my place to say. This is Samwell, but not many student athletes come out, and especially not the ones with prospective careers lined up. What with you entering the NHL and all, I thought it would be a bad time.”

“I understand. My dad, my manager, and some of my older teammates have told me stories. I’ve heard about the guys who would never go to family events, the ones who would get in and out of the locker room as quickly as possible. I’m just grateful to be on such an incredible team, both in their inclusivity and in their style of play. _Our_ style of play.” Jack paused for a minute and thought back to the best moment of his career—no, his life. Surrounded by all of the people he cared for in a haze of adrenaline and victory, nothing could touch him in that moment. There was just love.

“Well, it’s clear y’all deserved the Cup, and congratulations again! Now, I hate to kick you out, but I have a lecture in about an hour. I need to get these mini pies somewhere safe!”

Jack laughed as he stood up. “It’s really no problem; I wanted to stop by the Haus before the game, anyway. I’m glad we had a chance to meet!”

Professor Atley grinned and shook Jack’s hand. “Anything to catch up with an old student! You tell Eric I said thank you for the pies and good luck with his game today!”

Jack had just enough time to meet Bittle at the Haus before they all went over to Faber. Bittle had texted to tell him that Coach had left the Haus about five minutes ago, so Jack knew he wouldn’t have to deal with the tension. Jack had enough experience with communication issues and internalized prejudices to last a lifetime. All he wanted was a few minutes with his boyfriend and the team (but if he was being honest, mainly the former). He texted Bittle that he was outside only for the door to swing open about ten seconds later. Bittle stumbled out, scrambling to keep his gear bag on his shoulder.

“Lord, can these parents talk!” Bittle said. He closed his eyes and smiled as he moved to embrace Jack. “I just need some quiet time with my guy.”

Jack ruffled his hand through his boyfriend’s sandy blond hair and looked down at his deep brown eyes. “How about we take a little walk, eh?”

Bittle’s mouth hung agape. “Jack Zimmermann, are you suggesting the scenic route to Faber? Am I dreaming?” Despite his teasing, Bittle began walking and pulled his boyfriend’s arm into his. “Did your conversation with Professor Atley go well? Did she like the pies? Oh, Lord, I bet she brought up the project that we did together, huh? I’m never letting you do a complex lattice again!”

Jack let Bittle rattle on; it was much better than the phone conversations they usually had before a game. He listened to the nervous yet boisterous chatter and breathed in the crisp, fall air that would soon turn the ground into ice. It was the perfect time of year for a hockey game.

“Did she ask you about the Cup?” Bittle asked. This time, he stayed quiet after finishing his sentence.

Jack paused for a second and let the silence soak in. “She did,” he eventually said, smiling. He looked down at his perfectly small boyfriend and kissed his cheek. “She’s in our corner. I’m glad you have her as your advisor. She’s nice and listens to what’s going on. She respects us and understands what people in our place go through.”

“She understands the gay athlete struggles?” Bittle smirked a little, which made Jack chuckle.

“Maybe not personally, but she’s been at Samwell long enough to see all of the athletes who want to go pro but can’t officially come out.”

Bittle was suspiciously quiet, but he sighed deeply. Jack knew exactly what he wanted to talk about.

“Still no luck with Connor?”

Bittle sighed. “I don’t know what to do anymore, and with his parents here, it’s even worse! I know they miss their son, but I need him to know that the world is bigger than the one he grew up in. He may have grown up in a homogenous town full of people who knew him, his family, all of his business, but it’s not like that all the time!”

Jack stopped in his tracks and stood face to face with Bittle. “Hey,” he said. He stroked Bits’ cheek with his hand, and Bits reached up and clutched it, blushing slightly. “You’re so strong, Bits. I know that. You know that. But I think being around your dad for so long has gotten you a little bit stressed.”

Bitty relaxed into Jack’s hand and closed his eyes.

“I think we just need to get you to Faber and ready for the game,” Jack continued. You’ve always had some pretty lucky shots during family weekend games, eh?”

Bittle elbowed Jack in the stomach for that one. “Don’t you try to rile me up before a game, Mr. Zimmermann!”

Jack chuckled and caught up to Bittle, who was already walking towards the rink.

They arrived at Faber just as the rest of the SMH team was getting there. The boys gave their families tight hugs and some kisses on the cheek, but the crowd seemed a little off, like someone was missing.

“Do you want to come in, sweetpea?” Bitty looked up at Jack, pleading with his eyes. “I’m sure some of the boys would be happy to see you again!”

Jack grinned. “Sure, Bits.” He kissed that little cowlick he loved so much and made his way into the rink with the Samwell Men’s Hockey captain.

As they entered the locker room, all eyes looked up to greet Bittle and Jack. A chorus of cheers rang out amongst the guys. Chowder practically tackled Jack as if they hadn’t seen each other just this morning.

“Oh, wow, Jack! You’re actually staying to watch us play? Swawesome! I thought you would have important Falconers stuff to do—well not that this _isn’t_ important, but—”

“Thanks for being here, man,” Dex said, interrupting his babbling friend. “Always cool to see you!”

“It’s good seeing you too, Dex.” Jack smiled and brought his fist up to meet Dex’s. He went around saying hello to everyone and even signed Nursey’s cast. Nursey joked that it would be worth millions someday, gross plaster and all, but Jack couldn’t help but notice that someone wasn't there. It was well past the time that the boys were supposed to be there changing and getting ready for warm-ups.

Jack pulled Bittle aside and lowered his voice.“Hey, Bits, you finish getting the team ready, okay? I’m going to go take a walk around.”

“Feeling sentimental, are you now, Mr. Zimmermann?” Bittle gave him a sly grin.

“Hm, maybe.” Jack smiled back. “Kiss for good luck?”

He leaned down and pecked his boyfriend on the lips before leaving the locker room. From behind him, there was a resounding call for fines.

Jack wasn’t necessarily searching for someone, per se. He actually was feeling sentimental; this was his first time back at Faber since winning the Stanley Cup. He walked past the bleachers and stared at the trophy case. He walked along all the weird, wide hallways that Ransom used to swear were cursed. When Jack heard muffled voices surrounding the building, he almost thought his friend was right about the ghosts, but then he noticed the open doorway with rapid Spanish coming out.

“Papá—lo siento.”

The voices got clearer as Jack got closer. He couldn’t understand them, but they were panicked, distressed, and just sad. One even started to sound familiar.

“Sí, lo siento. Vale.”

After a safe ten seconds of silence, Jack walked out through the door and saw Connor Whisk, head in hands, shoulders shaking, mumbling to himself. “Shit.” That was when Connor looked up to meet Jack’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, Whiskey,” Jack held his hands up. “I didn’t hear much of it, but what I did hear, I couldn’t understand.”

Whiskey only nodded at Jack’s affirmation. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Do you want me to go?”

Whiskey paused.

Jack made his way towards Connor and gestured towards the ledge he was sitting on. Connor scooted over and let Jack squeeze in beside him.

“Are your parents happy to see you?”

Connor sighed. “I want them to be happy to see me, and they are. I just don’t know if _I’m_ happy to see them, you know?” Connor looked up at Jack, his eyes glazed over. “How did you do it?”

Jack was taken aback. “How did I do what?” He couldn’t figure out exactly what Connor was asking.

Connor rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You came out on national television knowing everyone watching was comparing you to your dad and thinking of your years in the Juniors.” He forced out a chuckle and shook his head. “I could never do it.”

Jack thought for a minute. “It’s really scary,” he admitted, and Connor met his eyes. “I’m not going to lie to you. It’s terrifying. You feel like you’re being thrown into an active volcano with everyone you’ve ever known and loved watching in horror, but I knew that for the right person—for Bits”—he smiled—“it was the right thing to do.”

The sides of Connor’s mouth turned up ever so slightly. “I think I know what you mean.” He pulled his phone out from his pocket and scrolled through some photos until he got to one with Connor and a boy with blond hair and blue eyes with muscles to match the Samwell Men’s Lacrosse tank he had on. Connor was giving the camera a full smile with his arm wrapped around the other boy’s waist. “He’s the first guy—the first _person—_ I’ve ever liked like this, but it just makes me feel like I’m being pulled apart like—I’m being pulled between the team, my family, and my sport. It brings back everything from Arizona where I have to be the best on the team and make all the shots and fall in love with—.”

Connor took a long pause and stared into the horizon.

The sun was high overhead with a bright, afternoon glare. Jack breathed in the air and thought about how the ice must be shimmering right now, ready for the skates to hit it and perform that intricate dance he loved. He imagined Bitty, flying through the air and shoving goons into the boards. He almost smiled thinking about the sunrise that they could see from Faber in those early mornings of chirping and shoving. His chest grew warm as he pondered all of the other beautiful mornings he got to spend with that boy. With Bits.

Connor turned to face Jack. “I want to do this forever, but I want to have him forever, too. I don’t want to choose.”

Jack put his hand on Connor’s shoulder. “You may not have to make that choice anymore.”

Before he knew it, Connor engulfed him into a full hug. They stayed that way for a few moments, breathing slowly and deeply in a steady, calming rhythm. When they pulled apart, Connor’s face was streaked with tears despite the bright, genuine smile on his face; the same smile Jack had seen in the photo.

“Thank you, Jack,” he murmured. “For listening. For being there. For everything.”

Jack held out a closed fist. “I’ve got your back, Connor.” Connor’s fist met his. “I know it’s hard to believe, but you’ve got people in your corner. You have me. You have the team. You have,” he paused for a moment, “Chad?”

Whiskey chucked and looked down while a slight crimson crept up his face. “Yeah, Chad. Chad B.”

“You have Chad B,” Jack nodded. “Now go to the locker room before the team has a collective panic attack. Give your parents a show, Whiskey.”

Connor smiled and ran off in the direction of the locker rooms. Jack hoped the boy wasn’t too late and wouldn’t have to endure a hysterical, pre-game Bitty, but that was honestly the least of his worries.

Later during the game, Jack and Shitty peered out among the crowds, trying to match up parents with players. Shitty drew his attention to Nursey’s moms (whom he remembered from their Andover days), and Jack pointed out Hops’ parents and his two small sisters. There was only one face that Jack didn’t point out to Shitty, and it was the one with a Samwell LAX shirt, an unmistakably bright smile, and a pair of sparkling blue eyes that followed Whiskey all around the rink. Jack smiled and joined in the cheering when Samwell made their second goal of the game in the first period: scored by sophomore Connor Whisk, assisted by senior and captain Eric Bittle. Jack couldn’t be more in love.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is my prediction/hope for the next few updates. I love these boys so much; please just give Whiskey the chance to talk to someone!  
> If you liked this, please give it kudos, a friendly comment, and/or a bookmark! Feel free to share this fic and follow me on tumblr @gaydiesaster.


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